


Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 18:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Uhm tbh I was feeling my mood and needed to vent and there's nothing better than projecting your insecurities about characterisation onto your muse as insecurities about their personality haha





	Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong

The moon was fat and hung high in the sky, seated in a throne of dark and wispy clouds as the stars glimmered, gleamed, and twinkled in their night-long dance. Crickets, owls, and other nocturnal wildlife filled the silence with their songs and tales, and although life bustled within the bush, he'd never felt so alone.

It would seem he was destined to be forever misunderstood; taken for the facade he presented and little else. He was simply not interesting enough to warrant anyone else trying to dig deeper, to see what he hid behind that cheerful smile and the playful pestering.

But the question lingered: did he want them to? While the sentiment was what he yearned for, he was also terrified of the outcome that he'd convinced himself would turn about. He was angsty and edgy for his past and the way he lingered, he was too prideful, too opinionated, too high-strung and tense and these negative extremes manifested in overly saturated positivity from the identity he'd created.

It was plain and simple: he hated himself, he hated the real him and he hated the fake him

Jett paused when he noticed he'd wandered to the edge of a steep but short drop off, and briefly teetered on the threshold, imagining that the 16 foot drop was a billion meters and that, instead of the Billabong that laid in wait, the vast and dark expanse of the ocean laid in wait for him. He wanted to jump and burn up in the atmosphere before he could collide with the water; he wanted to become nothing, for his molecules to drift aimlessly within the universe without the stress of sentience. 

He regarded, briefly, his thoughts and feelings as mere particles that strove to exist without knowing, as if by nature, never pondering whether or not they were worth a thing nor if they would extend; mindlessly striving and he was caught between feeling alienated from his thoughts and feelings or, perhaps even more frighteningly, one and the same.

The murky water splashed as his body plunged into it and his limbs and chest and chin scraped the Rocky bottom. It was effortlessly that he surfaced, feeling the cold water on his skin --for he had mindlessly stripped down to naught as his mind swirled with terrifying thought. He was aware of the creatures that lived in this water and aware of the man eating beast fabled to live here. Even if the Bunyip was real, it would spare him. Since when has he been worth more than a passing glance, a brief engagement? Was he overwhelming or underwhelming? He'd never know.

So into the depths he swam that midnight, not to clear his mind or heart --he didn't strive for the impossible--but instead to, however briefly, feel a pain he'd made all himself; for once a dull ache or a searing burn that wasn't brought on by people he cared for. No, his lungs would fill with water and he would awake the next morning on the shore, feeling as he did now but without the thrill of knowing that peace, although temporary, was short ahead.


End file.
